


Nevermind the End

by Lumieres



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Demons, Fallen Angel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:45:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8093851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumieres/pseuds/Lumieres
Summary: “I’m sorry,” Will said as he fell to his knees. “I really am.”“Then I hope your wings are worth it,” Hannibal said bitterly.-- After killing the Great Red Dragon, Will Graham has lost his wings. He asks Hannibal to help him find them.





	

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  By the talented [ ilgadfly ](http://ilgadfly.tumblr.com/)

 

The scene was something that Doctor Lecter usually avoided — the scantily clad women, the distinct smell of alcohol and other substances. It was everything Doctor Lecter _didn’t_ enjoy. 

His hand touched the safety of the crinkled paper, wondering why the person chose this place out of all the rendezvous points that she could have. It was written with such urgency and coated with a smell that he knew all so well. But he didn't want to risk it, he didn't want to risk being let down like he had so many times before. 

As he watched the people around him, his smile deepened a little. They experimented without thinking about the consequences of their lives, not thinking what kind of person could be around the corner. They never knew about the demons that prowled the darkest corners of the room.

The men walked in, hanging their top hats and canes by the side door, each one lusting after each woman they passed. Before long, the tips grew and the men left with lighter wallets, but with content spread across their faces.

Hannibal had kept to the corner, in the shadows. Hidden enough just so the servers knew he was there, but not enough for them to pay him much attention. Whenever he was summoned like this, he would always scope out the area before he met up with the man or woman. In his experience, it was usually a man.

His mouth salivated at the thought of another man wanting _his_ power. They usually never deserved it, but the prize at the end was always Hannibal’s favourite. He had his trophies lined up in his house — hands, heads, hearts and his favourite: _souls_ of those who struck a deal with him.

He, of course, had plenty of stories of his experiences with other people who had summoned him. Some were completely enjoyable and others weren’t. There was one time, a man summoned him and he was tied to a makeshift crucifix, which was an absolutely tedious night. He had said that he wanted to destroy the _him_.

Which was near impossible.  

(Unless he had an _angel_ on his side)

Hannibal had laughed in response. Although the man’s attempt was valiant, Hannibal quickly disposed of him. He kept the man’s soul in torment by the bathroom of his apartment. The entire event left him with scars up his wrist, ones that never healed no matter how hard he tried. Unfortunately for Hannibal, the man _did_ do his research.

Taking a deep breath, he fixed up his waistcoat and shrugged his jacket closer to him. He pushed passed the red curtains and headed towards the bar.

“A glass of wine, please,” he said. The woman had brown hair that curled in ringlets, framing her face. When she didn’t appear to recognise him, he hummed in disdain. Was a well-dressed man not common in these areas?   _Was_ he not known here? He leaned forward, his voice barely audible. “I’m here to meet the owner.”

If the woman heard the second part of sentence, she did not appear to notice or even say anything. Instead, her cherubic face donned an expression of pure contempt. The glass was placed in front of him, spilling ever so slightly on the cuff of his white shirt. His bottom lip twitched the slightest and he rolled the sleeves of his outercoat slowly, deliberating over his next response. He leaned over and turned on the tap, dabbing the stain a little. He then flicked his hand and returned to sit on the barstool.

“My dear,” Hannibal drawled. He sat on the chair, his posture impeccable. Taking a sip of wine, he angled his head. “What have I done to upset you?”

Her lips were stained bright red and her cheeks were powdered perfectly, like a porcelain doll. To this club, that was all they were. Dolls out on display. She was one of the few who covered most of her skin with a dress that belled out at her hips and an apron that she used to clean the glasses.

She pushed back a stray piece of brown hair and shrugged. “Men who come here upset me.”

“What about women?” Hannibal’s eyes twinkled, watching as her breath constricted in her chest. Of course, that was very interesting. “Don’t you like it when women come?”

“What are you accusing me of?” she asked again. This time, her pale face had deepened to a darker shade of pink. She tugged at the sleeves of her petticoat, her eyes darting about as she tried to locate someone in the crowd.  

Hannibal looked through the mass of women, trying to discern if there was one that the bartender fancied, but before he could find one, a lovely young woman stood opposite him.

 “Doctor Lecter, an absolute _pleasure_ to see you here.”

Hannibal turned, smiling wildly as he tossed the bartender another look, tipping his head in acknowledgement. “Miss Bloom, what a pleasure to finally be in your company.”

It was the first time he felt a warm smile escape his lips that night, one that was on the borderline of genuine. But he toed the line of sincerity and curiosity. Alana Bloom took a seat on one of the barstools, her heeled boots clicking at the table. “Margot, would you be a dear and get me a glass of whiskey. We’re going to be here for a little while.”

Margot was already on her feet and off in the distance.

“She’s a lovely one,” Alana replied, leaning her head on her gloved hands. She wore all red, her lips stained the brightest red of them all. Beneath her demure lashes, there was something else lingering, some other thought.  The glass brought her back to the present and she simply smiled warmly back at Margot who returned the smile. “Do any of these ladies catches your fancy? For your services, I can exchange you some of mine.”

Then she lowered her voice.

“Or men. I do have a man that you might be interested in.”

Hannibal returned her a quizzical stare.

“Men,” she sighed. “I would never have thought. But certainly, I can —“

“Why did you summon me, Miss Bloom?” he interrupted, hoping to steer the conversation away from him. He rather hear stories about his clients, not hear about something he knew all too well. Living for five hundred years meant that you had a plenty of time to acquaint yourself with your own adventures. He raised his wine glass and cocked his head at her. “I can’t see that you would need someone _like_ me in your line of business.”

“Straight to business?” Alana said, leaning forward. There was a hint of a smile on her lips and a certain flickering flame to her voice. “Very well. I need you to help a friend of mine. A … mutual friend, I would say. Or not exactly mutual on your side.”

“Mutual?” Hannibal’s brows perked up. This was getting interesting. There were very few people in the world Hannibal called friend. Most were acquaintances, many were there for inquisitiveness. When you were immortal, passing time was all you ever had to do. That, and staying out of affairs that could possibly get you killed. “We have a mutual friend?”

She took a deep breath and kept her voice soft. “He says you helped him with one of the latest wars between –“

“Are you talking about Will Graham?” Hannibal asked immediately. The last war he helped out was messy and he’d rather not do it again for at least another century. Unless it was to help that _beautiful angel_ again.

That beautiful little _angel_.

He remembered the night clearly — slightly wounded and desperate, the man came knocking on his office. The beautiful little thing bled over his carpet as he slowly patched him up, asking what on earth had managed to wound a creature of heaven.

“Yes.”

“I haven’t seen him since the events of the _Great Red Dragon_ ,” Hannibal replied. “How is he?”

“Fine,” Alana nodded.

“Tell me, Miss Bloom,” Hannibal said, his lip quirking. “How does a lady like you befriend an Angel like him?”

“He came to me,” Alana said, sighing. “A couple of months ago. He came to me, broken, and weak. He still hasn’t properly recovered.”

Hannibal tipped his head to the ceiling, catching the few stray spider-webs that spun around the gas lamps. “What happened to dear _Will?”_

“What do you think happened?” Alana responded, a little gruffly.

Hannibal had played over the possibilities days after. Enlisting the help of a man from the underworld was unheard of by any standards. Taking out the red dragon had been easy, if they worked together. Light and dark, two faces of the same coin, working in unison and harmony. If they hadn’t, then, the man would have destroyed both kingdoms. Even the mortal world.

The mortal world was Hannibal’s favourite. And he could not bear to see it destroyed. Who else would he toy with on dreary days? He had accepted on one promise. That Will Graham would give him a vial of his blood. He still had it, hidden among the collection of other objects he had procured over the years.

“I would say that he lost his wings,” Hannibal replied. Alana nodded at that. “May I see him?”

Alana placed a hand on Hannibal’s wrist as he stood up to move. “It took me months to convince him to let me speak to you. I want you to promise me that you will help him.”

“My dear,” Hannibal smiled viciously. “You want _me_ to get a heavenly object?”

“You have a way with words. Use them,” Alana had barely twitched but she had stiffened significantly.

“Let me see him.”

 

* * *

 

The room was dark, a little too dark for his taste. It cast far too many shadows and hid far too many secrets.

He waited, wondering if Will was going to make a comment about his presence. When he didn’t, he clicked his fingers. The candles around the room lit up in succession, casting an eerie glow. He picked up one of the candles and placed it in a saucer.

Will Graham was in the corner, by the window. The angel barely turned his head, but his body tautened like a bowstring. He was acutely aware of the other man’s presence but his mouth contorted as if he was disgusted by him. Hannibal lifted his head a fraction and inhaled, remembering the smell of _ambrosia_ hanging in the air. It was definitely him. Hannibal stopped by the bedframe, wondering if the angel had seen him or even noticed him. At that moment, hunger gnawed at Hannibal.

“I saw you come in,” Will said, his voice hollow. The moon’s pale light streamed through the window, casting shadows across his face. He pushed back his curls and fixed his glasses, staring back at Hannibal with little emotion.

“You called for me, didn’t you?” Hannibal whispered.

“After a while, Miss Bloom convinced me.”

 “Why didn’t you summon me yourself?” Hannibal asked. “You know that my prices are not cheap…”

“Your price with me was cheap,” Will answered. Hannibal wanted to protest. The vial of blood he had gotten from an angel, no, not _any angel_ , but an _archangel_ , was something in itself. It could destroy worlds. “You know what they did to me?”

Hannibal closed the distance between them, setting the candle on the small table. Skilfully, he began unbuttoning Will’s shirt, like they had before. Will resisted at first, but he relaxed when he felt Hannibal’s cool hands on his shoulders. Doctor Lecter pushed the shirt off one of his shoulders, to see the angry cuts where his wings should have been. Delicately, he traced the scars, pushing away quickly at how they still burned. Threading the fingers between his mouth, he cast another glance at Will who simply gave him another smile in response.

“They would still burn. I still have the blood that kills your kind in me,” Will said.

“And yet you don’t kill me.”

Will nodded, a little sadly. “They forgave me when I said I needed you to take the dragon down. But do you know why they cut my wings?”

“Because you bedded with me,” Hannibal smiled, once more closing the distance between them. Hannibal moved down on him, his lips brushing on his neck. Will leaned back against the wall, his breath shaky, eyes skittering about over him, like a caged animal. Hannibal’s hand gently traced the outline of Will’s sharp jaw with the gentleness of a lover. Will’s bottom lip trembled, a small tear escaping from the corner of his eye as he squeezed them tightly shut, turning away.

“Why didn’t you come see me immediately?” Hannibal asked.

Will ignored the question. “I was sent out to kill you. Did you know that?”

“I did,” Hannibal’s eyes sparkled with mischievousness. “I knew you were my enemy the moment you stepped into my presence.”

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?” Will asked, opening his eyes, cold and heartless. They lost the usual sheen that Hannibal remembered those nights ago. Between the oceans of blue, they would’ve sparkled when Will Graham thought he had Hannibal around his wrist. The manipulation between the two of them was tangible, but the game of chess they played had been so intricate that even Hannibal had no idea who had the upper hand.

“You were meant to kill me. Then you figured out that I was useful. Then you needed to kill me again, after the red dragon. And yet you haven’t killed me,” Hannibal’s long, spidery finger lifted Will’s head up and he pressed his lips against his, softly. At Will’s moan, he deepened the kiss, feeling how the angel’s heartrate increased at his touch.

Hannibal made a small sound of indignation when Will pulled away.

“Was it true? What Bedelia said?” Will asked.

“Hm?” Hannibal angled his head with curiosity at the mention of his fellow member of the underworld.  

Will’s lip thinned. “That you love me.”

“Do you love me?” Hannibal parried the question with his own.

Will’s silence spoke wonders and he got to his feet, pulling up his shirt and shifting it closer towards him. Moving towards the bedframe, his hand gripped the post tightly, as if he was suddenly gripped by a painful memory. Hannibal followed him, his hands holding onto Will’s forearms, eyes searching for Will’s.

“Why won’t you say it?” Hannibal asked.

“Because I want my wings back,” Will said, his breath soft. He traced Hannibal’s hands and brought them close to his mouth, kissing them lightly. “I did what I had to do.”

“And you didn’t do enough,” Hannibal shrugged. “Will…”

Hannibal’s voice drifted off.

“I loved you as Icarus loved the sun,” he sighed, letting the words hang heavy. “Too close, too much.”  Then, in a soft voice. “Why didn’t you find me?”

 “I didn’t have the strength,” Will replied half-heartedly. At Hannibal’s pointed stare, Will inwardly groaned. “After what happened, I could not bear to see you. It was my relationship with you that made all of this happen.”

“It was the events of the Red Dragon that made this happen. That made them _discover_ our secret.”

Will’s eyes hung heavy and glided off Hannibal. He got to one knee and bowed, folding his hand to his chest.  “I was scared you would not … want to see me anymore.”

“There it is,” Hannibal sighed, his lips curling at the edges. “The truth.”

“Because I would no longer be of use to you, I would just be another fallen angel to pity,” he winced as the words left his mouth.

“I would never pity you, Will,” Hannibal said, his knuckle pressed lightly against Will’s cheek. He took Will’s glasses off and settled them on the bedside table. Slowly, he lowered Will onto the bed. The hunger in his eyes was insatiable. Between each kiss they made, Hannibal’s only intent was pleasuring the angel he had pinned below him.

“Well, it looks like you two made up,” a voice drew him from their intimacy. His head snapped to the door, seeing female silhouette in the eerie light outside. He blinked twice and saw Will’s eyes, pleading as he shifted on the bed in front of him. “Am I interrupting anything in particular?”

Hannibal hissed in annoyance and he got to his feet. “Alana Bloom.” He gritted his teeth and hummed in annoyance at her silence. “Would you like to know how much it costs for me to search for Will Graham’s wings?”

“Hm?” she looked startled.

He folded his arms, still watching Will as he pulled up his pants with longing. “You do realise that I have a fee for those who summon me?”

“What?” Alana’s eyes went wide. “You’re meant to be helping a mutual friend.”

“Yes,” Hannibal lifted his hand to his nose. Will Graham’s scent still lingered. “But _he_ didn’t summon me. You did.”

“What do you want?” Alana narrowed her eyes.

 “Don’t,” Will said, clambering over the bed sheets and towards Hannibal. His strong grip stopped Hannibal from getting any closer. Hannibal’s dangerous gaze never dimmed and Alana shivered from what he hoped was fear. “I’ll pay for it. Twice. Hannibal, don’t take away her freedom.”

“Freedom? She took away mine by summoning me.” His tongue traced his lips as he stood defiantly. “Why would I not let her _pay_ for it.”

“ _Hannibal,”_ Will repeated again, a low growl. “I’ll kill you if you take it.”

“It’s okay,” Alana said. She squared her shoulders. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Will’s shoulders sagged and he whispered, “Alana. Why?”

“Because it means that he will help you, an insurance.”

Hannibal moved at lightning speed. His hand cupped her chin as he slammed her against the wall. “And is that what you want? To control me?”

“Yes,” Alana seethed. “And I want you to never touch me again.”

Hannibal gasped as the fire erupted in the hand that held onto Alana. He scampered away and nursed his damaged hand, betrayal evident in his eyes. “Then your soul is mine. When you die, your _soul_ is mine.”

“It is yours,” she nodded slowly, in agreement. Will shook his head in the corner of the room in disappointment.

“But first, I need a little bit,” Hannibal trotted towards her in large steps. He sniffed the air that was suddenly ripe with fear, listened to the loud thudding of her heart. The mere sight tugged at the corner of his lips as he scanned her body for the fragments of her soul.

It beat a lonely tune inside, a melancholic blue shone and drowned her as he continued piecing together parts of her soul. Some people’s souls were broken into millions of fragments around their bodies, others were more whole. The woman in front of him had been broken apart so many times that even for an expert like him, it would take him hours to piece back together.

“Who broke you?” he whispered.

“Don’t you remember?” Alana said as she raised her brows, her voice soft. She placed a small hand on his hand and her eyes flickered closed.

Instead of responding, he licked his lips and tugged at his sleeves. Taking a deep breath, he plunged his hand into her chest and twisted his arm out once he grabbed the warm, pulsating light. It struggled between his fingertips, trying to break free from his vice-like grip. With his other hand, he fished out a vial and flicked it open, stuffing the soul into the bottle. Angling it towards his ear, he squinted as he listened carefully.

“The woman who fell in love with both sides, the mortal who could have none of it,” he stated and dropped the small vial back into his pocket. Alana’s face had blanched significantly and her step was unsteady as she tried to move away. She placed shaky hands on the vanity beside her, expression questioning as she breathed in heavily.

“Taking part of you,” Hannibal said. “Really makes you tired, doesn’t it?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I need insurance,” Hannibal turned around. “Just like you did.”

“I’m not going to betray you,” Will said. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Who knows?” Hannibal gave a sickly smile. “I really hate it when people betray me.”

 

* * *

 

 

The moment Hannibal stepped into his house, the glamour faded. The once mundane features of his overly large house shifted into items that were experimental. There were items that had red light that pulsated from it, teeth that chattered when you walked past, and a stag in the corner, with blood dripping from it. Unfortunately, (or even fortunately), he kept his own glamour. Keeping away from the mirrors, he sighed. It was always a relief to remove his own illusion he cast over himself, but he was a man who preferred looks to comfort, so he kept it in Will’s presence.

“Don’t you trust me?” Will asked. “I know what you look like.”

Hannibal swallowed. “Not today.”

Sometimes he envied the angel. Sometimes he envied the fact that he looked so much more like man than he ever would. His warped hands, his dark eyes and of course his _horns_. Occasionally they disgusted him and on more than one occasion, he found himself fixing and tinkering with his appearance just so he didn’t have to put up with it.

Hannibal moved towards the stag immediately, tracing the blood with his fingers and licked it. He sighed in relief, “Good, I was experimenting with different combinations. I would offer you some, but you don’t appear to like my culinary taste.”

“What did you put in it?” Will humoured the demon.

“Well,” Hannibal raised a finger. “There’s the blood of a lesser demon, filtered with a toad’s intestine —“

“Actually, you know what,” Will interrupted. “I don’t want to know.”

Hannibal hid his low laugh behind a cough as he moved his arm in a crescent, gesturing for Will to take a seat. The couch squeaked at the angel’s weight, causing a couple of his creatures that lined the walls to scuttle in anxiety. Hannibal rushed towards them, hushing them with small noises. They glared back with their red eyes. He poked his finger through the metal gates and scratched the small bat-like creature’s chin. The creature spread its wings and flapped as it purred.

“You _know_ where your wings are, don’t you, Will?” Hannibal said as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He pulled out a snack and fed it to the creature.

“I do.”

“Where?”

“The place of lost things,” Will replied enigmatically.

“You do have to tell me at some point,” Hannibal replied. “If you want me to help you, that is.”

Will looked down. “I don’t remember how to find it.”

“It’s in the last place you look,” Hannibal said, a laugh catching in his throat.

Will ignored his attempt at a joke and began walking around the perimeter of the living room.

“What have you done with my blood?” Will asked as he pointed at the vials on the bookshelf.

Instead of responding, Hannibal glided towards the vials.

Hannibal’s eyes sparkled as he grabbed the nearest knife. He carefully angled it against his palm. Blood oozed from it and a sickly iron smell engulfed the room. Will’s eyes widened as he sniffed at the air.

His eyes narrowed as he scooted away from Hannibal. “What the fuck have you done?”

“Simply used it to my advantage, dear William,” Hannibal said as he licked the wound closed. The cut knitted back together and he moved towards at the corner of the room and ran his hand beneath the cold water. He stained the white basin red as he washed away the dry blood.

Will had found the needle. He flicked at the glass. “You’re injecting yourself with my blood.”

Hannibal nodded. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like, to be half —“

“You really fucking did it,” Will breathed. “I thought they were lying when they told me.”

“Oh, the stories about me are usually never lies,” Hannibal said as he grabbed the tea-towel. “They’re usually exaggerated truths, I make sure of it.”

“No, you can’t,” Will closed the gap between them. “Promise me you won’t do it anymore.”

“Hm?” Hannibal searched through Will’s eyes and saw the concern within them. “What will happen if I continue?”

“You don’t know?” Will exclaimed. “Of course you don’t know. You experiment _and_ then you know. You don’t care about the stories.”

“Stories are riddled with lies and exaggerations. I am a seeker of the truth,” Hannibal replied. His cold fingers gripped Will’s hand and removed the syringe. He angled his head as he pressed the needle against a vein in his arm and injected the blood into him. “I only do little by little.”

“You know, there are many stories about you,” Will replied. “But I never thought you were as stupid as this.”

Hannibal reigned in his anger as he put the syringe down carefully. He breathed in and out, hoping that the breath in his lungs would calm him down. When he was certain he wouldn’t do anything rash, he glared at Will, “You’re being rude. What happens if I do this?”

Will’s silence was unnerving. He waved his hand. “You’ll find out, in due course.”

“Why won’t you tell me now?”

“Because you were rash enough to do _this_ you wouldn’t have thought of the consequences,” Will spat. He brought up Hannibal’s hand to his face and kissed it lightly. “Just help me find my wings. And we’ll talk.”

Hannibal dropped onto the leather couch and leaned back on the chair. “Then tell me where it is.”

“The chamber of echoes, Hannibal, where _all_ lost things are.”

“I thought that was a thing of myth, simply a story,” Hannibal leaned forward, lacing his fingers together.

“All stories have truths to them, even if they are riddled with lies, as you said before,” Will replied. “The entrance only opens once every full moon at exactly midnight.”

“But can’t you enter? I mean, wouldn’t it be strange if I, a member of the underworld, made his way into something so —“

“Heavenly?” Will finished for him.

Hannibal nodded his agreement and maintained his silence as he coolly assessed Will. There was something that the angel was hiding beneath his perfect curls. He looked like a caged animal, breaking eye contact every so often and drawing his breath in quick successions, as if he had said to much.

Will stuffed his hands into his pockets and sat down opposite him. “I need you to get there. Please, Hannibal.”

“You never call me Hannibal,” the demon’s eyes flashed dangerously as he continued listening out for dishonesty. “What are you playing at, little angel?”

“I just want my wings back,” Will replied. He leaned over and bridged the gap between them, pressing his lips against Hannibal’s. “Is that too much to ask?”

Hannibal kissed back but it tasted sour in comparison to the fireworks they were hours before. He brought his hand up around Will’s shoulder and cupped his chin. “Why don’t you look at me, William?”

“They say if I stare into a demon’s eyes for too long, I’ll get lost in them,” Will said with a small chuckle. Hannibal sighed and leaned forward.

He pecked Will’s cheek. “Are you truly willing to sacrifice the mortal?”

“Huh?” Came Will’s unintelligible response.

“She’s already lost her life to me. Are you sure this is the price you want to pay for your wings?” Hannibal pressed. He pulled out the vial that contained a fragment of Alana’s soul for safe keeping. It cast a blue light in Hannibal’s hands and he let Will’s gaze settle on it. “See, I could take it all back. I could let her live a dull, mortal life, if you tell me what it is you’re planning. Why do you need _me_ of all people to save you and get your wings? What if I want to keep you here myself? It would make it so much less _forbidden_ to see you.”

“Less forbidden?”

“It would be the love story of the ages,” Hannibal said, a ghost of a smile on his lips “They would sing of it for ages.”

“She will live the same life she will live with and without your promise,” Will said, eyes darkening. It was a familiar sight, the gloom that revealed itself every so often on his face. It shifted his features into something far more threatening and Hannibal always enjoyed it when it appeared.

“Is that a promise to her?”

“No, it’s a promise to your terms,” Will said. “Because you’ll only have her soul at the end of her life.”

“But she could be reborn,” Hannibal said carefully. “You’re denying her a future life.”

“She won’t know, Doctor Lecter,” Will said. His responses were well timed and parried each response Hannibal came up with.

The silence that ensued was thick with tension. Will shifted uncomfortably in front of him, but the longer Hannibal stared, the more the angel squirmed in front of him. There were unspoken truths beneath his lips.

“I think I know a place that can get you your wings,” Hannibal replied.

Will’s eyes lit up.

“But you must trust me,” Hannibal said. “Completely.”

The glimmer of hope faded a little and Will looked down at his hands. “Okay.”

Then there was a loud shriek that came from the bathroom. Will looked in shock.

“Oh, sorry,” Hannibal said. “That would be the man who tried to kill me.”

 

* * *

 

 

The headless driver stood by the door of Hannibal’s house. Smoke dissipated into the sky from the stump where his head used to be and he held an umbrella in his left hand. When he heard them emerge from the house, he quickly opened it up. Hannibal nodded a hello at the man who shifted uncomfortably in front of him.

“Oh Randall,” Hannibal tutted as he fixed up the man’s tie and waistcoat. The figure placed a hand on Hannibal’s arm.

“You’re welcome,” Hannibal said with a tight lipped smile. Randall slowly began to walk down the steps, making sure to shield them from the light rain.

As they stepped onto the cobblestoned floor, Will raised a thumb, motioning at Randall. “He’s new.”

“You have been gone for a year,” Hannibal replied quickly. “Things change.”

Will acquiesced silently with a light bow.

The gas lamps lit the streets around them and a couple of carriages swept past. The air was damp from the recent rain. There were lines of worry on Will’s forehead as he examined the sky above him. The moon peaked from the sombre clouds above them — a crescent in the grey sky.

“Is something the matter?” Hannibal asked.

Will shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I’m visiting a colleague of mine,” Hannibal said. Randall opened the door into the carriage and Hannibal motioned for Will to step inside first.

Will pulled a face. “A colleague like _last_ time? She was —“

“Are you talking about Doctor Du Maurier?” Hannibal said, taking a step inside.

Will nodded.

At Will’s meek expression, Hannibal schooled his amusement. “We aren’t visiting her, if that’s to make you feel better.”

As they settled inside the carriage, Hannibal hummed quietly as he took in the state of Will’s attire. Everything was unironed and mismatched. Hannibal leaned forward and wiped the droplets of water on Will’s shoulder.

“You need to take care of your clothes,” Hannibal said. “You never know when you need to attend a formal event.”

“Are you taking me to one?” Will said, significant fear on his face.

Hannibal hid his smile behind his hand. “No. If I was, I would definitely make you look a lot better than that.”

“And taking an angel to a party,” Will started. “Would be bad, even for you.”

Hannibal nodded in agreement. He thudded the back of the carriage twice and the horses reared to life. Travelling like this was far easier than walking but he hated the cumbersome nature of the carriage. If there was something that was far easier to take into secluded locations, one that didn’t reveal that he was there … then that would be the most ideal.

Tugging his fob watch from his pocket, he opened it up with a click. He pulled back the curtains and tried his best to prevent a sound of annoyance escaping from his lips.

“Randall, you’ve passed it,” he said. “Why did I have your head removed, anyway? It makes you a hundred percent harder to control.”

“You had his head removed?” Will repeated, eyes wide. “Why did you do that?”

“He saw too much of my activities and spoke too much,” Hannibal replied, a little too nonchalantly for the situation. “The best way was to remove his head.”  

“How did you hire him?”

“He used to be mortal,” Hannibal replied, waving a hand up in the air. “And then he wanted something _very_ difficult to catch, now he’s my humble driver for the rest of eternity. Mind you, eternity isn’t that long.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Will said.

“You are young,” Hannibal smiled. “Such a sweet, bright thing you are.”

The door opened once more. They were facing an apothecary. Herbs lined the windows and there was ominous smoke that wafted from the door. The wooden door opened to reveal a couple of people who held plants that snaked around them.

“Is it alright if I stay here?” Will asked, meekly.

“Of course,” Hannibal said as he slowly got out, avoiding the puddle. He headed quickly into the shop and rested his top hat on his stomach. The shop for the most part, was empty of customers and the owner. There were herbs lined in small bottles on the shelves and plants that turned and twisted at every change in light or sound. Hannibal angled his body away from one that tried to snap at his waistcoat. The _soul-touched_ plants were one of the annoying parts of the enterprise.

Pursing his lips together, he let out a small whistle, high pitched and strong. A man came scuttling from the back, eyes bright red and his face was spotted like a leopard. He groaned when he saw Hannibal.

“What is it you want?” he said folding his arms and leaned on the doorframe.

“Frederick,” Hannibal laughed. “I need a couple of supplies.”

The demon gestured around. “Take whatever you need and leave me _alone_. The last time you were here my face got burned off.”

“So sorry about that,” Hannibal said with faux sincerity. “I truly am.” 

“You made them come after me,” Frederick raised his finger. “I’m lucky to still be alive.”

“Oh _Frederick_ ,” Hannibal said. “You’re lucky that I haven’t killed you yet.”

Frederick’s lips thinned as his mouth opened to say something, but shock rendered him useless. He shook his head and just raised his hand, about to disappear into the back of the shop.

“Do you know where the find the place of lost things?” Hannibal asked as he idly picked up a plant.

Frederick poked his head from the doorway again. “Place of lost things? _The_ place of lost things?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said.

“No.”

A loud slam and Frederick was gone.

A couple of minutes later, Frederick emerged again.

“I’ll tell you what I know if you get me an object from there,” Frederick said. His fingers fidgeted beside him as his eyes flashed greedily.

Hannibal shrugged. “Sure.”

“It comes on the full moon of every month, if you go to the Forest of Souls,” Frederick said. He leaned forward. “I want the blood of the Vergers.”

Hannibal tried his best to hold back a laugh. “Of course you do.”

Frederick’s eyes widened and he pulled Hannibal close. “The angel is playing you. You are not safe, Doctor Lecter.”

“I know,” Hannibal replied, with resignation. He traced his fingers across the oak table and gave Frederick a forlorn smile. “But, it was my fault that he reached this outcome. I guess I will pay for my misdeeds for the last few centuries.”

“You never pay for your misdeeds, what makes _this_ angel special?” Frederick asked. He pushed a note beneath him.

_ >> They want you. _

“Because he’s interesting,” Hannibal smiled, pretending to not notice the slip of paper. But he _knew_. Entering such foreign ground would be his one ticket to dying, his one ticket to losing his freedom. He should have run when he still had the chance.

“Also.” He pushed out the vial of Alana Bloom’s blood in front of him.

Frederick picked it up and held it to the faint light. “It’s human.”

“Yes,” Hannibal sighed. “If I don’t come back, make sure you dispose of it completely. Make sure she is safe.”

The lesser demon mulled over his response and nodded. He pulled out an old box from beneath his table, his fingers delicately tracing the lock as it clicked open by itself. Placing it inside with one hand, he grabbed Hannibal’s hand with the other. Blood beaded from the small prick he made and he slid Hannibal’s hand over the wood.

“Thank you, Frederick,” Hannibal said. “Your kindness will be — rewarded.” The slight hesitance was enough for Frederick to hold back a curse.

“Good luck,” Frederick said. “The heavens may still be after you yet.”

* * *

 

 That night, Hannibal woke to the sounds of screaming.

The book on his chest fell to the ground as he scrambled to his feet, arm reaching out for a candle. Light illuminated the room as he snapped his fingers, setting the wick aflame. He pushed past the other stacks of books that were around him and the syringe clattered to the ground. He gasped as he knocked over the vial of Will’s blood, but quickly dismissed it. There were other pressing matters at hand.

Once he got to his bedroom, he saw Will’s body, taut like a bowstring. He was shivering and his breathing racked through his entire body. Hannibal’s world was frozen for a moment as he watched the beautiful creature crumble and crack beneath him.

It was spell-binding.

Hannibal stood in the doorframe, unsure whether or not to move forward. The angel dragged long fingers down his face and raised his trembling gaze onto Hannibal.

As he tried to get out of bed, his legs tangled beneath him and he fell. Hannibal was fast, placing the candle on the table and caught Will with seamless ease. He brushed the curls away from his face, light fingers cupping his chin.

Will’s shaking stopped after a few moments. He got to his feet shakily and mustered something that was half of a smile. The springs groaned as he sat on the bed. He pulled his dress shirt over him and shivered again.

“The red dragon,” Will said.

“The red dragon is dead, Will,” Hannibal cooed as he sat beside him, a hand around his shoulder.

Will shook his head. “The red dragon isn’t dead. At least… he’s not dead in here.” He raised a finger to his temple and began sobbing. The cries were soft at first but as time grew, they encompassed his entire frame.

Hannibal pulled him close, unsure what the correct response would be in the situation. But the closer they were, the more it felt _right_. He continued the silence between them, let Will cry for as long as he needed. Sometimes, it was better to be there, than to say anything.

“The nightmares,” Will whispered. “They never stopped. They’ll get me. They’ll know that I couldn’t do it.”

“What can’t you do, Will?” Hannibal asked with genuine sincerity.

Instead of answering, he said in a raspy voice, “Water… _please.”_

Hannibal walked away into the kitchen, passing the menagerie of arms and other items he had accrued over the years. He took longer than necessary, making sure the water was perfectly warm. On the plate, he placed two cookies and walked back into the bedroom. Will was standing by the window, the doors open and his face extremely pale.

“Will?” Hannibal asked hesitantly. He turned away slowly and walked towards Hannibal. The man smashed his lips against Hannibal’s and tangled his fingers through his hair. The way Will kissed was like the way he fell: sudden and hard. With every movement, Hannibal wanted to be lost in the moment, wanted it to last forever. It reminded him bitterly of the past, when the two of them had met and snuck secret kisses when they were certain no one was watching.

But _they_ were always watching.

Hannibal wanted to move, wanted to free his hands, but the angel in front of him was relentless. His hunger was insatiable.

After what seemed like an eternity, Will broke away. Breathing heavy, Hannibal arched his eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” Will said as he took the glass from Hannibal’s hands.

Hannibal nibbled a cookie. “Sorry for that?” 

“Sorry for everything,” Will replied vaguely.    

“Don’t be,” Hannibal said. “I have been running for far too long from everything that it is finally good to be back on the ground.”

Will looked away as Hannibal broke the cookie and shared it with him. It was their silence that made Hannibal reconsider what was going on. Behind those eyes, Will was playing a dangerous game. He could see what was happening, all the half lies. They teetered on the line of friendship and enemies, which always led to spark Hannibal curiosity.

“Will,” Hannibal quietly sighed. He held him close and ran his fingers over his lips, never breaking eye contact. He was framed by the moonlight that streamed from the window, ethereal and magnificent. Hannibal’s heart stilled in his chest and the person suit he had so perfectly constructed faded.

Away from the suits, away from the sounds of everything that he had made for himself, he was _raw_ in front of Will. The angel began shaking in front of him, scared at the horns that protruded from his head and the black eyes that stared back.

“This is who I am,” Hannibal whispered. “Don’t you remember now?”

He pressed his lips against Will’s, pushing with as much force as he dared. It was his desperation, his knowledge, that led him to continue moving, that made him give in to his demonic hunger. Will sighed into him, his hands clawing at Hannibal’s back as Hannibal lifted him to the bed.

“Hannibal,” Will moaned, his cheeks flushing. He was fumbling with his pants now, but with a quick flash of Hannibal’s hands, he stopped moving.

Will’s eyes widened.

“Do you want to know my power?” Hannibal said slowly. “Do you want to know why the angels dislike me so much? Do you want to _truly_ know?”

The words died on Will’s lips and Hannibal let out a low chuckle, one that rumbled and resonated in the room.

“I never knew that you could do such thing to me… that you could make me different,” Hannibal breathed into his neck, his hands sliding down Will’s back. “Emotion… is new to me.”

Will’s voice caught in his throat and Hannibal remembered what he had just done. He clicked his fingers, unleashing his hold, watching as the man pushed back the curls from his sweaty face and looked back at Hannibal with hunger. With _need_.

“Hannibal, please,” Will asked. “ _Please_.”

“My sweet little angel,” Hannibal smiled, tilting his head. “I want you to know where you can find me. Always.”

* * *

 

 

As the carriage drew closer to the point of interest, Hannibal smelt the salty tang of sweat in the air. He pushed past the curtains to see a pale stream of moonlight filter through, catching Will’s blue eyes. The angel wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hands. The horses whinnied to a stop and the driver — a headless man — approached the doors of the carriage and opened the doors with a screech.

“Thank you, Randall,” Hannibal said as he stepped down from the carriage. His shoes caught the puddle and he winced slightly, wondering if it ruined his perfectly good shoes. He spun on his heel, holding out a hand to help Will down. “Avoid the puddle.”

“Thank you,” Will said sourly. “I can manage myself.”

Hannibal shrugged and started walking, his hand carefully looped around Will’s arm. “So, where is it?”

Will pointed past the trees that silhouetted the horizon.

“Randall, keep by the carriage,” Hannibal said. The driver bowed again and trotted off. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You know we don’t have to do this,” Will whispered. His hands were around Hannibal’s fingers. His eyes were pleading.

“But you want your wings, don’t you?” Hannibal said but his stomach rattled with anxiety. Will was up to something, and despite the centuries he had been alive, he could not tell what was happening behind those sweet blue eyes. “You want to be an _angel_ again.”

Will looked away. Between the shadowy boughs were creatures that watched their moves. The trees fanned out as soon as they reached the river. In the distance, the hills loomed like ominous sentries, guarding a secret beyond the heavens.

Hannibal took a seat, placing his cane on the rock beside him as he dug the heel of his boot into the sand. Will stood beside him and began pacing. The smell of sweat never left the young angel.

“Why don’t you sit?” Hannibal asked, his voice gaining an edge.

“All you have to do,” Will said, ignoring Hannibal. “Is walk and then it should be somewhere inside.”

“As easy as that?” Hannibal arched a curious brow.

“It won’t be easy,” Will said. He got to his knees and brought Hannibal’s two hands to his mouth. “Just — stay safe.”

“You are good at acting, Will,” Hannibal whispered. “I haven’t quite figured out what’s happening but it can’t be good for me.”

“It’ll be the best ending … for the both of us,” Will said, words slightly manufactured. “I promise you.”

Hannibal’s eyes fluttered closed. “Oh, sweet angel. I hope you’re right.”

With a hastily constructed smile Will said, “Thank you for this, I really appreciate it.”

Hannibal narrowed his eyes ever so slightly but maintained an aura of amicability. He pulled out the pocket watch, keeping an eye as the second hand dragged to the twelve. “It’s time.”

Will took a step back, eyes wide as bright light streamed in front of them. It burned his eyes so much that he had to raise a hand to cover them. He found he had lost the sensation in his legs and no matter how much he wanted to get to his feet, he couldn’t.

It was the light of the heavens that streamed from the opening. Despite having a bit of angel blood in him, the light still had the same affect it did when he didn’t have it. Slightly disappointed, he waited for his vision to focus so that he could see the figure behind the light.

Hannibal gritted his teeth as pain reared his back. He spun around to see Will had struck him. Staring at the sword that had pierced his stomach, he opened his mouth in an attempt to question him, but only a groan escaped his lips. He fell to his knees, the cold encompassing him.

“He has your blood in him.”

A dark skinned man emerged from the light.

Hannibal gritted his teeth, trying to keep quiet and not show his weakness. He could see the blood seeping into his perfect clothes and some part of him was scared that he would never be able to clean the blood out of it. It _was_ his favourite.

“Jack, I did what you wanted me to do,” Will said, his voice void of emotion. “But we will not be able to lock him up. He has my blood in him.”

Jack’s eyes slid down Hannibal like the blood that was oozing from his stomach. He wasn’t going to die from this because the sword wasn’t lined with heavenly fire, but he certainly was going to be out of action for a couple of days.

He let out a couple of shaky breaths and turned to face Will. “I saved you. I saved you and this is how you repay me? Deny me and betray me?”

“I want my wings back,” Will replied with coldness that Hannibal could not recognise.

“Who are you?” Hannibal shouted, his voice echoing among the darkness. “You’re not the Will Graham I met before.”

“You made me like this.” Will twisted the sword and was rewarded with another cry of pain from Hannibal. His hands skimmed the dirt and he scrunched his hands.

“Did I?” Hannibal said. “I showed you parts of me, I let you see me.” Hannibal strained his neck, hoping to catch Will’s face. “Are you sure it wasn’t him who made you like this? Him who stole your wings and forced you to do this?”

Hannibal raised a bony finger at the archangel that stood in front of them.

“I have _Alana_ ,” he whispered, he breathed out. He pushed the vial in his hands but it was an idle threat. He knew that this wasn’t _Alana’s_ blood, but Will’s. “You know what I said about people betraying me?”

“Don’t,” Will growled. His voice had taken a startling turn and his eyes were darker — almost a shade of black in the night — which made Hannibal’s lip curl dangerously.

“We’re joint,” Hannibal whispered. “Drain me and you’ll sever our tie, _kill_ me and you’ll kill Alana.”

“We’re not going to kill you,” Jack said. “Why would we do something so easy?”

Will’s hands were balled into a fist as he tried to regain his senses. Hannibal could see the fear in Will’s eyes as his mind ticked, trying to figure out what was happening. Holding out his hands in front of him, he watched as his nails curled, as everything changed.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispered.

Hannibal leaned forward, his eyes flickering. “Neither of us can survive separation.”

“He has your blood, Will. If we lock him up, we have to lock you up as well,” Jack said slowly, ignoring what Hannibal had just said. “Until you manage to drain all of your blood from him.”

The archangel got closer towards him, his wings as bright as the sun. The light burned Hannibal’s face but he didn’t care.

He hissed as Jack came close, his legs tensing as he scraped the floor, making a lunge. But Will was faster. It was as if he had anticipated the movement.

He grabbed Hannibal’s arm and pulled the sword from his stomach, plunging it into the demon’s leg. The moment their eyes locked was the moment the blackness retreated from Will, like a shadow releasing its hold.

Hannibal howled as he spun, landing on his back. Betrayal emanated from him and light tears rimmed his eyes.

“I saved you,” he breathed. “I helped you.”

“You were meant to leave this city,” Will whispered as he dropped down to Hannibal. He pulled the demon to his feet and draped an arm across his shoulders. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“Because I was waiting for you,” Hannibal said. His other hand was wrapped around the fabric by his stomach, trying to stop the blood. He was losing consciousness fast. “I thought you would come back.”

“Some part of me wishes I did,” Will said.

Hope sparkled in Hannibal’s eyes. “What about now? Please, Will. Show some compassion.”

 “We can’t put him into our cells until he’s been completely drained of your blood,” Jack said. Ignoring the exchange. “Unless you want to be locked up with the other demons as well. You two seem to be having an intimate conversation right now.”

“You said you would come back, so I stayed for you,” Hannibal said as he searched for Will’s eyes. They met for a second and Hannibal was the one who broke their gaze. His breath trembled as a cough rattled through him. “I stayed and hoped that we would run away together.”

“It wasn’t going to happen,” Will said as they stepped through the threshold.

“So you sacrificed your wings,” Hannibal said. “Just to capture me?”

Will’s silence spoke more than what his words could ever say.

“And all in the event of one night,” Hannibal sighed. “I wish you won’t come to regret your decision, dear William.”

“He won’t,” Jack replied for Will.

Will pushed Hannibal, making him march forward. The glum silence was a stark reminder of the way Hannibal’s soul cracked inside of him.

 

* * *

 

 

The demon remembered the first time he met Will. The initial thing he noted was the fact that the angel was young. It was easy to see and for a species that had many members aging past five centuries, Hannibal was intrigued by the young angel that turned up on his doorstep.

Back then, he had piqued his interest. There was a certain desperation to the way he asked for Hannibal’s help. It was — it was beautiful, to describe it in the simplest way possible.

“Are you Hannibal Lecter?” he asked, his voice soft as he looked down at his feet. He pushed his glasses closer to his face and his breathing was erratic. The sickly sweet smell of angel blood was on him.

“I am,” Hannibal replied, calmly. He had his human guise on and he wasn’t particularly fond of taking it off in front of near strangers.

“I need some help capturing the _red dragon_ ,” he said.

“Another one of my kind?” Hannibal responded. “Not my area of expertise.” With the flick of his hand, he closed the door. But the angel knocked once more.

“Please,” he said. “I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“What is your name?”

“Will Graham,” he replied. “We need you.”

Now, Hannibal regretted his decision, his curiosity. It always took him down paths that he could barely escape and today, it was something that lured him into the den of his enemies.

He stood in the dungeons, shackled to the walls. It was cold here, enough to see his breath fade out in front of him as he shivered. Shadows danced on the walls, with wings large enough to encompass him. If you looked at it another way, the wings could easily belong to a member of the underworld.

Perfection was simply perspective.

His shoulders were slumped and his heartbeat was slow. They had not changed his clothes and he still reeked of blood. Not that he minded, but the lack of dignity he held here was appalling. The moment he crossed the threshold was the moment his glamour had faded. He no longer could look _how_ he wanted. His demonic form sat far too awkward but the more he willed to hide again, the more the pain rushed through his veins that he had to simply _stop_.

He shivered and coughed, the metal ringing against the cobblestoned walls.

“ _Jack,”_ Hannibal whispered, his voice raspy. His near black eyes glared at the man as he tilted his head. He licked his lips. “Come over here so I can see you.”

 _So I can see the man who I will have to kill_ , part of him whispered to himself.

Jack came into view. Hannibal gaze dripped over him with cool detachment and his eyes twinkled with amusement.

“You were meant to be forgiving,” Hannibal said. “You turned young _William_ into something that resembles members of the underworld. How long will it take you to realise that?”

The crack of a hand to skin caused Hannibal to jump in fright. It was the stinging that clung to his left cheek that made him realise that Jack Crawford had just slapped him.

“You have eternity to rot in our prisons,” Jack said. “I hope your tongue does not stay as sharp.”

When he shifted his weight, the dried up blood crackled and flakes fell in a small pool around him. For such heavy wounds, it would take him weeks to heal, but he was thankful that the bleeding had stopped. For the time being. He eyed Will who sat opposite him, palming the pommel of the sword in his hands. Hannibal tried to make out for anymore wounds that hadn’t completely healed but most of them had patched up in the hours they sat here, facing each other in the silence. If he wasn’t chained to the wall, he would have plunged another weapon straight into Will’s stomach with surgical accuracy, leave him with a wound that would never heal, even with the angel’s blood in him.

But he was stuck here, listening to the jeers of the others who wanted him dead and the archangel who made sure Will was doing his job.

Will walked over to Hannibal and tilted his head, his bottom lip trembling. At the expectant gaze of Jack, he nodded. He slowly pushed the blade into Hannibal’s shoulder so that it drew more blood.

“Good, keep doing that until you’re certain he’s free of you,” Jack said. “I will be back three days from now.”

“Yes, sir,” Will replied, though he kept his back angled to cover Hannibal from Jack’s gaze.

“Is that how long it’s going to take?” Hannibal whispered. Despite the confidence he had minutes before, the thought of having to suffer through this pain for three days shattered his resolve.

Will nodded gravely. “You have a lot of my blood already in you and it’s multiplied.”

 “You better say your goodbyes, Will,” Jack said. “After you drain him, you won’t be able to see him again.”

“Yes, sir,” Will repeated. The sound of receding footsteps echoed in the dungeons and Hannibal’s chest fell a little with relief.

“If you knew they were going to do this to me,” Hannibal seethed, though the anger was hollow. He couldn’t picture himself doing anything about it, apart from just shouting idle threats at Will. “Why did you let me take your blood?”

“I didn’t know they were going to do this to you,” Will answered honestly. “And I didn’t know you were going to inject yourself with my blood.”

He turned his hands out, almost as a peace offering and then swallowed hard in response. He leaned forward and kissed Hannibal. In that kiss, Hannibal’s breath left him and he hungrily sought out more. The clang of the sword dropping to the ground hit him and Will’s gentle hands traced Hannibal’s cheeks.

Will’s hips hit Hannibal’s as his fingers crawl beneath Hannibal’s shirt, tracing each muscle and avoiding the dried up blood. A small, throaty laugh escaped Hannibal’s lips as Will’s hands trailed down into Hannibal’s pants.

“Are you trying to make this better?” Hannibal sighed. He licked Will’s lips and moaned as he lifted his head, eyelids fluttering in ecstasy. “Make this situation seem less bad than it actually is?”

“This is some kind of apology, yes,” Will said.

“I guess you won’t unchain me,” Hannibal whispered. “You won’t let me touch you one last time.”

Will stopped and knitted his brows together. His fingers curled around Hannibal’s neck as he traced the man’s hair. Will made a small, helpless sound that caused Hannibal to break the kiss immediately.

“You’re making this worse for me,” Hannibal sighed. “Just… stop this and do your job.”

Will ignored him and began kissing his neck, but the strangled cry that came from Hannibal made him jerk back in surprise.

“Please,” Hannibal said. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”  

Will slowly leaned down to pick up the sword and plunged it into the demon’s thigh. Hannibal licked his chapped lips and waited for the second stab. When it didn’t come, he lifted his gaze questioningly.

“Free me,” Hannibal pleaded. “ _Please_.”

“I’m sorry,” Will sighed, the arm holding the sword was trembling. His other hand slammed itself against the wall and he kept his gaze firmly on the ground. “I should have told you, but they took my wings and said that the only way to get them back was if I brought you to them.”

“You did the right thing, Will,” Hannibal said. “If you had told me, I would never have come willingly.”

“You’re the most wanted demon, but they never could figure out a way to capture you,” Will started. “A proper reason to capture you. When you killed an archangel, they couldn’t forgive you.”

“Beverly, you mean?” Hannibal replied. He had forgotten about her.  She had seen too much of his movements and if she left, she would tell both _heaven_ and _hell_ of his activities. He couldn’t risk that, so he silenced her forever. He still had the wings in his basement. But that meant nothing now that he was here. “I really am sorry about her.”

“Are you?” Will asked with bitter resentment. “I couldn’t hate you completely. We’re — we’re too alike.”

“You cut me and you cut yourself,” Hannibal said as he sidestepped the question. “Will you free me? Once you get your wings.”

“If I did, what would you do? Kill Jack? Kill every angel?” Will pushed the blade again through Hannibal’s other shoulder.

The demon bucked at the chains, the clangs reverberating against the stone walls, hollowly reminding him that he was a long way from the mortal world. His throat was raw from the screams and he felt that if he made another sound, it would only satisfy the others who were watching. So instead, he bit down hard on his tongue, drawing blood. If it would help him bleed out faster, so be it. He wanted Will to stop plunging that cursed knife into parts of his body until his blood was free of Will’s.

“Fall again,” Hannibal pleaded. “Fall again for me.”

“I can’t,” Will whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut. “If I could, I would.”

Hannibal dropped his head in defeat and waited for the sword to pierce his skin once more. No matter how many more questions Will asked, Hannibal maintained his silence again and again. His heart clattered in his chest and burned as the sadness settled into his bones. Thinking made his body numb so he simply stopped. There was no use trying to make sense of something inexplicable. The lights that lit up the path to his memory palace slowly disappeared as he withdrew from the material world and into the one he crafted for himself.

“At what point,” Hannibal started. “Will you realise that you’re now the monster?”

Will stopped plunging holes into the man, his hands shaking his he traced each wound.

“You and I —“ Will whispered. “Have begun to blur.”  

Hannibal turned his head, not daring to look at the eyes he had fallen in love with.

“I could’ve gotten you different wings,” Hannibal said. “I had been looking. Wings of the night.”

Will shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Will said as he fell to his knees. “I really am.”

“Then I hope your wings are worth it,” Hannibal said bitterly.

The blood continued pooling around him, but it was never enough for Hannibal to lose his focus on reality completely. He was stuck in a perpetual state of pain and agony, watching the man he loved take away his freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> lkAJKLJLKFDS just look at the art and just keep looking at it because :D


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